


Unconventional

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [16]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Rarepairstuck 2020, Stabdad, god i love this version of alternia, he now has seven, integrated worlds, prompt: similarities attract, snowman is dave's mom now, well one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: On the one hand, it's overkill—you'd never let any of your associates come here if they didn't already have an understanding of the phase of life you're in now, never mind the fact that Snowman's in a position to understand it better than anyone else of any other species might—but on the other? Kid's showing survival instincts nearly equal to yours, and you'redamnedproud. And of course, then there's the realization that he's nowhere near as old as you are and he shouldn't fucking have, need, or be aware of those instincts. You make a mental note to talk to him about that later. But for now...Jack finally gets forced to introduce Snowman to Dave.
Relationships: Jack Noir/Snowman
Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1175588
Comments: 22
Kudos: 91





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of Rarepairstuck 2020! prompt was "opposites/similarities attract" and i went with similarities.

Taking a rain check on any planned meeting with Snowman's a sketchy idea, to say the least, but you had pressing matters that required the attention you were supposed to give her. Usually that'd just mean some playful or not so playful retaliation before, during, or after a future date, maybe a bit of playing hard to get that you've gotten pretty damn used to after the long history you've logged with her.

You did not, however, expect her to show up at your place. Too bad, though; you come downstairs from the finicky call with the exotics dealer who called you three hours before you should have met Snowman, and she's leaning against the counter with that faint smile that means trouble for you specifically, eyes on you even as she listens to Dave.

Aw, damn. "When'd you get here?"

The only answer she gives is a faint added curve of those shades-paler-than-black lips; stars and space she's going to kill you. She's going to kill you and you will willingly steer into that black hole. You regret most of your life up to this point, but especially answering the god damn text from the god damn blocked number. Why are you so enamoured by the chance to acquire even more alien weaponry.

Dave, on the other hand, is much more forthcoming. He spins the stool he's sitting on around, giving you a grin that takes off some of the edge on your current discomfort and gesturing at what you assumed for a moment was a sealed glass jar of something edible left out on the counter. Now that you take a closer look, all of that applies other than _edible_. "Jack, check this shit out—"

"Kid, is that a god damn rodent." It's not really a question. You can tell that it is, or would be if it wasn't quite so mutated. Last time you saw something that far gone was...well, it was on a job with Snowman. Cleaning out the aftermath of one of the third-generation Dyentian reactors, before that specific civilization figured out how to properly measure critical mass in vacuum and zero-g instead of a planetary atmosphere and gravity well. The pay was fine, the chance to watch Snowman hunt down feral saurosoids three times her size was...better. Much better. "That thing better be dead."

Snowman laughs, low and throaty and tinged with amusement that reminds you of the prelude to revenge. "I _do_ have a basic knowledge of what is and isn't allowed planetside, darling. Besides, I wanted to bring a gift to our ward, not send him to the medics."

_Darling_. She's not even being subtle about how deep in shit you are. You turn that over in your head for a moment before you register the actual threat in what she's just said. "Wait— _our_? You ain't exactly the one who pays attention to this half of the shit I do."

Snowman shrugs, carefully straightening her lapel. You're not certain, but you think it's to avoid looking you in the eyes. Builds up a sense of dread much more efficiently this way. "Jack, Jack, Jack. Why should Paint always get to be the one spoiling children? Didn't it ever occur to you I might like a turn, once we've found one I can get along with?"

" ...uh." She has a point. She does have a point, and there's the _tiniest_ twinge of guilt when you think about depriving Dave of Snowman's admittedly impressive abilities to judge what a person needs and either provide or procure it. Added to that, the kid's interests line up with hers in a few places yours just don't—exhibit A's the dead tentacle-headed rat floating in a jar of preservative on the counter. D's going to have kittens. "No running off everyone else who's adopted him. Kid's part of a clade—"

"Oh, I know. Mindfang and I have...a history." Snowman smiles, showing white teeth.

You consider asking about that history and decide against it. "Uh-huh. Great. Can't take the kid on jobs either."

"Believe it or not, I _can_ use my common sense for that sort of thing."

"Yeah, and you're always going to end up at 'no one's going to die, so it's fine.'" You try and fail to subdue your irritated sigh, and cover it up by rubbing at your forehead with one hand. You love Snowman, yes—well, when she's not pissed enough to try to kill you, emphasis on _try_ —but this feels like one of the arguments you are destined to lose. "Run 'em by me first. Hell, run 'em by Strider. D. The oldest one, not his kids."

"Interesting. Would that be because of the biological relation or because he's a little more protective of children than the trolls are?"

" _Nothing's_ more protective of children than trolls."

"Lusii," Dave points out, reminding you that he's still here. And enjoying this conversation, from the not-quite-smothered grin on his face. "Is this how, like, custody agreements start out?"

"No," you tell him.

"Sometimes," Snowman amends, with a smile of her own. "It's not always this civil."

The kid grins, sharp enough to pass for a true carapacian and bright enough that you know there's something else under it even before he says, "So does buying a kid off an asshole for a shit ton of weaponry count as more or less civil than this?"

Huh.

Unless you're very much mistaken, Dave's asking the question as a test for your long-time partner. Not that he knows she _is_ that, in more senses than one—you're almost certain he's testing her opinion of you, seeing just how safe the life he already has would be if he accepted her quasi-maternal offer.

On the one hand, it's overkill—you'd never let any of your associates come here if they didn't already have an understanding of the phase of life you're in now, never mind the fact that Snowman's in a position to understand it better than anyone else of any other species might—but on the other? Kid's showing survival instincts nearly equal to yours, and you're _damned_ proud.

And of course, then there's the realization that he's nowhere near as old as you are and he shouldn't fucking have, need, or be aware of those instincts. You make a mental note to talk to him about that later. But for now...

Snowman's brows rise. It's a calculated expression, one she's cultivated and you haven't—your species does not have much automatic movement in that facial area. She looks over at you, cocking her head to the side. "Which weapons?"

The obvious question to anyone who knows you as well as she does, and you answer with the value code only your partners and your crew really understands. "Two fives and a seven."

You rank your blades, have for most of your life. Snowman knows what it means, and her dark eyes widen just the tiniest bit. " _Jack_. Was he that good of a haggler?"

"Nah." Admitting the next bit almost hurts, honestly. Mostly because it's Snowman you're saying this too. "I wanted the first offer to be one he couldn't refuse. Would've given twice that for the kid to be out of there."

Over on the counter, Dave makes a mostly muffled sound that sounds to you like surprise. You're not sure why; he should know by now that you've been very firm about the merits of your decision to get him to where he belongs almost from the first moment you saw him.

Snowman's reaction, on the other hand, is silent. She blinks, and that's all. Then she looks over at Dave (something you weren't planning on doing yet; you feel like he might want a minute to get any unwanted facial expressions under control before he's confronted with scrutiny) and smiles. It's a _nice_ expression, which honestly worries you more than the predatory grin you're used to from her would. "...so where exactly would the one he...traded custody from be, exactly?"

"Earth," you say.

"Prison," Dave says, at the exact same time. He opens his mouth to repeat himself—most people would've probably only understood your answer and not his—and Snowman waves away any need for him to.

"So you left him there?" she asks you, with that specific unbelieving lilt to her voice that makes you want to growl.

"I'm not _you_ , sweetheart," you point out, keeping your voice level. Dave might not react too well to anything else—he doesn't know Snowman well enough to know that the two of you almost never _really_ fight, no matter what it looks like. "And Earth ain't Alternia—he wouldn't have ended off safe if I'd gotten myself caught taking care of that shitheap. Plus, the other kids were the ones who put him in cold storage."

"Ah. The _other_ Strider's boys."

"Don't call Hal that," Dave mumbles. Snowman looks at him, and then at you when it's obvious that Dave doesn't really want to challenge an adult more than that.

"D's kids," you confirm. You honestly don't have a clue what Hal's got going on in the gender department, but Dave usually has a handle on his family and you'll just go along with his assessment. "But yeah. Them."

She smiles, all teeth and menace. Stars and _space_ but she could still seduce you with just that smile. "I'll have to talk to them, then."

Oh.

To find out where that slimeball is, exactly. You really should have seen this coming from her—it's what _you_ would do in her situation, and while Paint's got the opposite of your moral compass, Snowman's and yours have always pointed to the same magnetic north. She can pull it off without a hitch, too, but...

"We'll talk about it," you tell her, carefully not looking at Dave so she'll know _exactly_ why you're not talking about it now. Kid's had enough sketchy experiences; you don't want to add _listening to aliens argue about assassinating his former guardian_ to the list. "Later. Come on downstairs; I got those shuriken I promised you there. Might as well pick them up now."

Snowman laughs as you turn away. "You know I'll find another excuse to come back, Noir."

"Yeah, I know." You throw her a crooked grin over your shoulder, winking at Dave when he looks up from his mutated rat. "Might as well turn that excuse into more gifts for the kid, right?"

"Oh, _indeed_."


End file.
